


Hazel & Honeysuckle

by Jacrispybensolo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Ashla/Bogan/Bendu, Clovis is awful, Discussion about Anakin's past in slavery, Dragons, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Forbidden Love, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mentions of Slavery, Mutual Pining, No one feels romantically about Clovis, No one has sex with Clovis, Overprotective, Padme is publicly married to clovis, Possessive Behavior, Secret Marriage, The Force exists but its different, Tristan and Isolde, Tristan and Isolde Retelling, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacrispybensolo/pseuds/Jacrispybensolo
Summary: Anakin is an apprentice in the prestigious Order of the Ashla Knights, and has sworn an oath to honor his realm above all. He has dedicated his life to the servitude of the realm and the Order.Until he meets the Lady Amidala...Loose retelling of Tristan and Isolde.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Rush Clovis
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Hazel & Honeysuckle

**Author's Note:**

> Padme/Clovis is tagged because Padme has a public marriage to Clovis in this fic. She never does anything sexual with him, and does not feel romantically towards him. 
> 
> I do not outline my stories in advance, so tags might be added as I go. I will leave a note anytime I add or change a tag.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who reads and enjoys my little fantasy AU indulgence that I write to distract myself from working or being productive :) It means the world to me <3

**A Knight’s Code of Honor**

_ Vows taken by every Ashla Knight _

  1. I shall protect the light and forsake the dark. The Bogan is my captor, and the Ashla is my salvation. 
  2. I shall obey the Ashla Council above all.
  3. I shall take no wife, and bear no children. My duty is only to the realm.
  4. I shall forsake my homeland and my family, for I am a Knight and only a Knight.
  5. I shall never be cruel of voice or act. And if I slip, I shall make amends.
  6. I shall be brave, even when others cannot.
  7. I shall only fight when peace is no longer an option. Violence shall always be the last resort.
  8. I shall pass on all knowledge to my apprentice. Through this, our order will live forever.
  9. I shall forsake all desires of the heart and body, and live only for my realm.
  10. These are the only vows I shall ever swear.



* * *

Padme Amidala heard the news of her betrothal at the same moment as the rest of Naboo.

Her mother and father gave her no time to prepare, surely because they knew she would’ve fought it. She would have refused to go to court that day, or performed a social gaffe in an attempt to embarrass any potential suitor. She would’ve written the man a letter (as she had written many a letter), declining his advances and proving herself to be the one thing that the men in the realm of Coruscant never wanted in a wife: she would be difficult.

When her father took his seat on the throne of Naboo, ever the Lord Amidala, ruling over his people in their king’s stead, she took her usual place beside her mother, and stared ahead. The entire back wall of the throne room was a mural, a pond with grass too green to be real, and a tree that reflected back in the water, with the sun peaking through the branches. The colors were vivid, like somehow the world was more alive in the mural. She would stare at the teardrop leaves until she couldn’t hear her father’s voice anymore, and she was there. The air would smell of freshly cut grass, and the wind would wisp through her hair, the sun would warm her skin. The throne room wasn’t where Padme thrived; she preferred to be out in the city, in the courtyards, in the country, with her people.

The people of Naboo did not attend court. They couldn’t afford to travel to Theed every week to hear their liege lord speak. No, they milled about in the lower half of Gunga City, beyond the lake, and Padme would make a point to travel there with her handmaidens. Learn about the people under her family’s stead, their struggles. Her attempts to bring their concerns to her father’s ears were futile at best, but to the young Lady of Naboo, there was no better way to waste her time.

Her headdress was drooping perilously when she heard the word  _ wedding _ cross her father’s lips, and nearly dropped the thirty pound monstrosity when she whipped her head in that direction, still weighed down by both her position and her outfit. 

“And I will end this court with a bit of good news.” Lord Amidala had a gruff voice at home, one that slurred and grumbled until it was time to yell, but the people of Naboo believed him to be a clear-spoken and confident man. “News of a wedding.”

Her mother grabbed the headdress in the exact right place to stop it’s fall, and used the other hand to hold onto Padme’s elbow, her nails clawing through the thick lace of her court gown. Padme’s nostrils flared slightly, but she did nothing to signal discomfort. She scanned the room, looking for one last bit of mad hope, one last bit of denial to cling to. No one else was present that Lord Amidala would have deigned worthy of a court announcement, with Padme’s brother too young to wed, and her sister already happily married to the town butcher with a baby at home. Padme’s sister, in her father’s words, was defiled by the butcher.

Lord Amidala allowed the chatter in the room to die down, the buzz of a wedding exciting the lesser lords of Naboo. With a wedding usually came an entourage of hundreds from other countries in the realm, men who could marry their own daughters.

Sweat beaded under Padme’s collar, where pieces of the headdress hung down over her shoulders, and her neck grew weaker under the weight of anticipation. Her arms shook so lightly that it wouldn’t have been visible under her elaborate gown.  _ Please no, _ she pleaded out to anything at all that might be at large in the universe - the Ashla, the Force, it made no matter to her.  _ Please don’t let him send me away. _

She clenched her jaw, just thinking of the strange man that would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Some Lord from another country, who surely wouldn’t care for her at all, and would take her away from Naboo, away from her handmaidens, away from the lake outside the castle where she would swim with Eirtae. Some Lord who would become her keeper. Some Lord who would share her bed on her wedding night.

“Please.” The word was so light on her tongue, Padme didn’t even move her lips. Her mother dug her nails in tighter.

“As many of you know, I’ve made a few trips to the Capital over the past several months, and have become close, personal friends with His Majesty.” Yes, everyone in the court knew that, there was no way they couldn’t know that, with the way her father crowed about it at every opportunity. “And while we worked for the realm, the King and I have been making other arrangements as well.”

The tree blurred until it no longer had a form and was only a mess of greens and browns, and Padme was no longer in a field beside a pond; she was there, in the courtroom, with her mother’s nails biting into her, and dread burning around her heart. Padme chewed the inside of her cheek, not even flicking her eyes to her father to see the smile that she knew sat atop his disgusting brown beard, she didn’t look at all the lesser lords of Naboo as they cheered for her, and she didn’t look at her mother. Staring at the jumble of colors was all that kept her tears from spilling over her eyes and down her cheeks and never stopping.

“My daughter, Lady Amidala of Naboo, will be the next Queen of Coruscant, the wife of King Clovis.”

The throne room erupted, and Padme didn’t see any of it. She only saw the blurred tree, and the visage of the King that she’d only met once in her life. The way his cruel eyes drank in her entire body before they even met.

King Rush Clovis staked a claim on her before ever meeting her, and now he was coming to collect what was his.

Padme’s chin wobbled, the only visual change in her body as the people below celebrated her tragedy.

“Mother.” She could raise her voice now with all the noise below. “Please, mother.”

Lady Amidala loosened her grip on her daughter’s arm, and sighed. “Just smile, dear.” With a sidelong glance, she waited for the smile to form on Padme’s lips. “It is your duty.”

Padme swallowed her sobs, as she was trained to do, and smiled for her court.

* * *

Becoming an Ashla Knight, in practice, meant two things to Anakin Skywalker:

  1. He learned how to wield a sword.
  2. Every morning he awoke before the sun and went out to the woodland trail behind the Temple, with Obi-Wan Kenobi beside him, a grating smile on his face, as if he _cherished_ every moment of traipsing through the woods with only the dying light of the moon to guide them.



But Anakin couldn’t say any of this. Because Obi-Wan would only tell him that an Ashla didn’t need the sun to see, for they had the Force.

The late summer sky was still a light purple from the night, now with slashes of blue and teal. When Anakin was first awoken in his chamber, there were no slashes of light. Just plain, dark, sky. 

And he only suffered through the early morning jaunts through the woods because, becoming an Ashla Knight, in theory, was supposed to mean two more things for Anakin Skywalker:

  1. Tales were told of the Ashla Knights all throughout the world, their shining swords and billowing capes featuring in nearly every song or tale told beside a fire. Becoming an Ashla Knight meant getting what he wanted. Doing things he couldn’t do as a normal person.
  2. Connecting with all living things through a shared bond called The Force, using the power for good, the ability to harness connections... Or something. 



And the latter was the reason why he was in the woods before dawn, with an all-too-chipper Master walking leisurely by his side, as if he got the perfect amount of sleep. Obi-Wan probably had nothing keeping  _ him _ up through all hours of the night. He probably spent one minute pontificating on being  _ noble _ or something, and then immediately slept through the night until he was suddenly struck with the urge to awaken Anakin.

He once attempted to deadbolt his door, and was then subjected to a  _ talking to _ from the Council.

“Okay, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded exactly the same in the dead of night as it did during the day. It was infuriating - everyone else had a morning grumble. Not Obi-Wan. “Pick a plant, any plant.”

Anakin harrumphed and looked around at the trees with a bored expression. He pointed to the plant closest to him - a vine with leaves, bright red berries, and flower petals bursting with orange and pink, the same colors in the desert sky of his homeland.

“Okay. Now go through the motions, just as you were taught.”

Anakin scoffed but still did as he was told. He blocked out all else. He took every other stimulation and removed them from his senses, one by one. Obi-Wan’s smell - the smell of sunshine and soap. The morning dew, and the crackle of leaves underfoot. The light that was slowly beginning to peek through the sky. The feeling of his cloak hanging over his shoulders. The dirt underneath his feet. The distant sound of footsteps. Erased every single one until all that was left in the entire world was him and the vine, and the space in between.

The space in between. That was where the Ashla operated. The Force connected all living things, by an invisible string, a kind of tether. The Ashla could connect to the Force and see the tether. Could pull on it, hold it, or, in the worst cases, cut it. And sometimes the tether was nearly impossible to find.

Some tethers burned bright and true, and an Ashla could sense them immediately. Anakin could feel his tether to Obi-Wan at all times, knew it was there before he ever laid eyes on his Master, and there were some days when the tether felt more like a leash. 

All he kept alive in his mind was himself, his tether to Obi-Wan, and the vine. There was the faintest line, could hardly be called a tether, and he almost wondered if he’d imagined it. Like he rubbed his eyes too hard and was seeing spots in the dark. He reached a hand to touch the invisible line, to tell the petal to twitch so he could satisfy Obi-Wan and get a few more minutes of sleep before the sun came up.

The line faded into nothing at his touch, and with a rising frustration in his chest, Anakin swiped more aggressively where the tether should be. He reached deep within him, pulling out all of his impatience and aggravation and throwing it at the space, directing all his energy at the silhouette of a string until the string came to life in his hand, until he could grip it, until he could force the leaves to twitch. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan pulled on the tether that connected them. “Anakin, stop it. What have I told you about forcing a connection?”

_ That it’s the path to the Bogan. _

Anakin opened his eyes, out of the realm of the Force and back into the real world, and he stared at the pink and orange petals. Where it used to be fully bloomed, with color radiating from it, the flower had shriveled in on itself. Like everything that gave it life suddenly went into fighting the connection with him. Died at his touch.

“Sorry, Master.” The words sounded insincere even to his own ears, but Anakin hated apologizing. He only wanted to make the process go along faster. The sun had since shone low in the sky, all embers of night quickly dissipating under it’s buttery yellow light. 

“How long was I in that connection? It only felt like a few moments.”

Obi-Wan stroked the vine and the dying petals, his earlier jovial smile gone, replaced with a scowl. His disappointment was palpable, and Anakin suddenly felt guilty for his earlier resentment toward his Master’s happiness. 

“I’ll try again.” This time Anakin was sincere, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

“These berries are poisonous.” He flicked one of the bright red berries to the dirt, disgust plainly written on his face. “It’s probably for the best. You shouldn’t connect with poison. We’ll remove the berries and try again.”

He had already  _ said _ he wished to try again, and he very much didn’t anymore now that it was an order. He crossed his arms in defiance, well aware of how childish it made him.

“How many times do we have to go through this exercise?” Obi-Wan and the Ashla liked to preach patience, but sometimes Anakin thought his Master was even more impatient than he was.

Anakin heaved a great sigh, like he was asked to lift a statue above his head. “I’m  _ deeply _ sorry, Master.” He emphasized the word and lifted his eyebrows, indicating to Obi-Wan exactly how  _ not _ sorry he was. “I just don’t see the point of this. I doubt Dooku has his men in the woods first thing in the morning. They're probably still sleeping in their beds.”

Obi-Wan pushed air through his nose, and rubbed his temples. “That is why the army of Serenno, should they ever attack, will be fighting at a disadvantage. Their power begins and ends at swordplay.” 

Anakin nodded, mentally preparing for yet another lecture. He understood what Obi-Wan and all the other Master’s of the Ashla meant. That they needed to be more than warriors - they were Knights of the Ashla. They had power that the army of Serenno didn’t possess.

But none of this changed the fact that if Anakin could easily cut down his opponent with a blade, then he wouldn’t have to worry about calming his mind and connecting with plants.

“You aren’t allowed in the training yard until at least one petal moves.” Obi-Wan said. He used his soft voice, but Anakin bristled anyway. He was 19 years old - he shouldn’t be told when he’s allowed to move freely through the Temple.

“I’m  _ trying _ ,” Anakin said through gritted teeth and closed his eyes, hoping he’d feel the connection. The vine still grew in its soil, still rooted in the earth - it was alive. As an Ashla, he should be able to feel it. If he was as powerful as the Council said he was, he would’ve felt it already.

Maybe his power slowly degraded over the past 10 years, and it would eventually wither to nothing, and Obi-Wan would be forced to kick him out of the Order.

“It is alive, but it’s not sentient. You cannot simply ask for a connection like you would with another human. You have to be secure. Gentle.” With his eyes closed, Obi-Wan’s voice sounded calmer. Gentler. More patient. “Soothe the flower, Anakin.”

_ Soothe _ the  _ flower _ ? Anakin opened his eyes again and stared at the soft petals. “It’s okay,” He said. “I won’t hurt you.”

A snort sounded behind him, and Anakin whipped around to find Obi-Wan straight-faced.  _ Too _ straight faced. “Maybe try soothing the flower silently.”

All that saved Anakin from another sad attempt at flower-soothing was the tapping of footsteps, and Master Plo Koon appearing behind them. He eyed the dying plant but said nothing of it.

“Good morning, Master.” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkled when he smiled at Master Koon, his bad mood suddenly dissipated. “How can my apprentice and I assist you?”

He was never Anakin, or Skywalker, or even an Ashla in his own right. Always “Obi-Wan’s apprentice”. Anakin turned completely away from the shriveled up plant behind him, and staring at the deep wrinkles lining Plo Koon’s features. Wrinkles that had been there even when Anakin joined the Order as a boy. He wondered if Master Koon ever regretted it - an entire life dedicated to the Force. To the Ashla. To an Order and Masters, in service of a High Council.

“The King has ordered all Ashla Master’s to the throne room presently.”

Anakin sprang to his feet, already heading back to the Temple to get even five more minutes of sleep before he was called to the training yard with the other apprentices.

Before Anakin could say so much as farewell, Obi-Wan pulled him back by the shoulder.

“Do not dawdle, Anakin. Go straight to the training yard, and I will find you immediately after the meeting.”

He scowled and huffed, but nodded all the same. Openly arguing with his Master in front of a Master of the Council would only bring him more trouble, and more trouble was the last thing he needed on only four hours sleep.

Plo Koon interjected. “Skywalker?”

Anakin steeled himself for another Ashla platitude. “Yes, Master?”

“You’ve been called for a meeting as well. With the King’s top advisor. He’s waiting for you in his office.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but Anakin took off across the trail before he could say another word, making his way to the palace.

* * *

Sheev Palpatine, the King’s top advisor and Anakin’s first friend in the Capitol, had an office in a tower, overlooking the shining steel of the city beyond the palace gates.

The heavy wood door opened, and Anakin’s friend stood on the other side, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Anakin, my boy. So good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Your Grace.” Palpatine had no royal blood, but he worked his way through the court eventually landing himself as the top advisor to the King. He wasn’t born with his title, he fought for it. The same way Anakin would fight to become a Master.

Palpatine laid a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder and guided him to the window. He never forced Anakin to kneel, or sit on opposite sides of a desk. They stood side by side. “You look exhausted. Is Sir Kenobi still waking you up before dawn?”

Anakin said nothing, only shrugged and looked down on the city below. Obi-Wan was a nuisance to him, but he wasn’t comfortable with anyone else talking badly about his Master. Not even a close friend like Palpatine.

“I’m sure he means well. But I worry about you, Anakin. Someone with your potential should get all the sleep they can. Next time, tell him you’ll sleep in. On order of the King.” He chuckled, but flitted his eyes to watch Anakin’s reaction. He gave a shaky laugh in response, unsure if this was a light conversation or if he was being posed a riddle.

Anakin Skywalker had no patience for riddles.

“That would be nice, Your Grace, but he would only tell me that the Ashla don’t answer to the King. Only our own Council.”

Palpatine dropped Anakin’s shoulder and held his hands behind his back.

“Well, that could all change soon.”

“What?”

The old man moved to his desk, ignoring Anakin’s question.

“What’s that old Tatooine fable you were telling me about? The one about the dragon.”

“Um..” He had no clue why Sheev Palpatine would care about Tatooine children’s bedtime stories. “It’s just an old tale they tell the children on the desert.” Palpatine nodded, urging him on. “Centuries ago, before the realm was formed, Tatooine was a dragon country. Our people were dragon riders, and dragons were bred for sport in the fighting pits. When raising dragons was outlawed, and all fire-breathers were to be put down, Tatooine natives rebelled. Kept their fighting pits open.

“A Master of the Ashla came to Tatooine, and slayed the last fire-breather with a sword straight through the heart. Later that night, a red star appeared in the sky, beside the sun. A star only visible on the desert.” For the first time in years, Anakin felt wistful for his old home, staring out the window, past the city, to the far beyond where Tatooine lay with it’s red star. It’s second sun. “Parents tell their children that it’s a second sun, formed from the fiery heart of the dragon. 

Anakin shook his head. “But it’s not. Historians don’t even all agree that it appeared the night the fire-breather was slayed.” Anakin snapped his head away from the window, his dreams of the desert broken as he looked back to Palpatine, who leaned against his desk with arms crossed.

“Why are you asking me about the dragons of Tatooine?”

Palpatine sighed. “The King is meeting with all the Ashla Master’s with news of his engagement. He is to marry the young Lady Amidala, from my home land of Naboo. But I... I worry for the future queen’s safety.”

“Why is that?”

“If my spies are correct, it seems Count Dooku has a dragon. Not a small, domesticated dragon, mind you; a fire-breather. And he intends to send a message and use it on the young Lady and her family. On Naboo - my home.”

Anakin’s heart hammered in his chest like the beating of a drum. The drum sounded louder and louder with every breath he took, all the calming exercises that Obi-Wan taught him over the years forgotten. “If that is true... If Dooku came into possession of a fire-breather’s egg, then he negotiated with slave-owners to get it.” The rich of Tatooine maintained their wealth by three avenues: Hoarding moisture, dragon’s eggs to fool outlanders, and slaves. Watto himself had a stash of dragon’s eggs he swore were real.

Count Dooku very well may have given his coin to the man that still held Anakin’s mother in shackles. His cheeks grew hot and his arms shook as though they were weightless, not connected to his body, barely containing the storm that raged inside him.

“Why are you telling me this?” His voice didn’t sound his own, it was darker, deeper, a threat belying every syllable.

“Do you believe in destiny, Anakin?”

He picked his words carefully. “I believe that the council has a destiny planned for me.”

“I believe that things don’t happen by accident. That it was no coincidence that the late Sir Qui Gonn Jinn found an orphan boy in a desert known for dragon-slaying, and that boy happened to have the potential to be the mightiest Ashla Knight this world had ever seen. And now that the boy has come of age, underappreciated by his Master, a dragon happens to threaten the new Queen. 

“Anakin, I believe this is how you become the Knight you were meant to be. A more powerful Knight than Sir Kenobi... A Knight powerful enough to save your mother.

He wasn’t sure when Palpatine moved so close, but their faces were only inches apart, and Palpatine was near whispering every word straight into Anakin’s heart. The air around them grew thick, and Palpatine broke their connection when he turned.

“Of course, if you must obey the Council...”

“How do I get to Naboo?”


End file.
